HappineS

The economy is in crisis. This is a time of anxiety and worry for many people. It's made us mind what we spend money on. Window-shopping has replaced actual shopping; no longer do I impulsively buy something I like in a shop - I usually put it back on the rack and walk away.

It's a paradox, isn't it? Our economy can't recover unless people spend money, but we're all keeping our pocketbooks zipped shut because we're worried about the economy.

That's why it's fun whenever you DO find something that you feel good about spending money on. I recently found a little item to buy that was virtually guilt-free.


There was a basket on the sidewalk in front of a little store on Abbot Kinney Boulevard. Little books of lined paper, leather-bound in pretty colors beckoned. Designed like an address book, with little alphabetized tabs, the book allows the owner to jot down notes or list items for reference.

Only this book listed categories of things that make you happy.


What's better than a device to help remind you of things that make you happy? A nice book to keep in your handbag. Or a nice gift to amuse and delight someone you love. But in this economy, what price does one pay for a Happiness Tracking Tool?

A sign on the basket said:

Acceptance IS the first key to Happines! It's certainly worth three dollars!

I found these books at DaisyArts in Venice, CA. If you're in town, go visit.

Topanga Tiki

In Maori mythology, "Tiki" is a word that refers to the first human on earth. The word also appears in other Polynesian islands, with variations. In Tahiti, the first man was called "Ti'i." The first woman was "Hine."

"Tiki" also refers to the large human-like carvings that appeared in the Polynesian islands, including the large stone carvings in Easter Island.

In 1934, a fellow named Earnest opened a bar in Hollywood called Don's Beachcomber Bar. He served rum-based drinks, and food that was based on Chinese restaurant food, but with a special decorative flair. His restaurants were so popular that franchise "Don the Beachcomber" joints sprang up all over the country. In San Francisco, a competitor opened a place called Trader Vic's. Both Don and Vic claim to have invented the Mai-Tai - a cocktail made with rum and mixed fruit juices.

Restaurants were decorated like tropical islands, and carved wooden Tiki figures were prominently featured. You could buy special cocktails served in mugs shaped like Tiki figures - and buy the mug to take home. Perhaps WWII veterans from the South Pacific enjoyed this reminder of exotica after they came home, or maybe it was the excitement of Hawaii being a new state - in any case, Polynesian style was extremely popular during the 1950s and 1960s.

There are still a few Tiki joints in the Los Angeles area. Here's a list - I have to explore them, and will report back to this blog. Trader Vic's, at the Beverly Hilton, closed a little while ago when the hotel closed for remodeling. It is supposed to come back this spring, in downtown L.A. near the L.A. Live complex.

Even if you can't go to an exotic Tiki bar, sometimes you find Tiki in the most unexpected places.

Like Topanga. I was just driving around, exploring a road I hadn't been on before, and I suddenly found myself in a tropical jungle, with a lyrical waterfall right out of Bali Hai. There were tropical decorations galore! Someone up on Observation Drive has a great sense of humor!

A creek draining winter rains from the Santa Monica mountains is planted with tropical plants that thrive in the sheltered nook of the steep and tumbled rocks. Palms and cycads and bromeliads arch their fronds and flowers over a stepped waterfall.

Carved wooden Tiki figures guard either side of the carport. They look a little crazier than most Tiki-bar figures - but then, that's Topanga!

The natural stone outcroppings of our mountains are enhanced with the face of a mysterious earth figure - a stone Tiki indeed!

He looks a little jaded, if you ask me. Welcome to Topanga, a magical tropic paradise in the most cynical city in the world!

Can I get a Mai-Tai and a Pu-pu Platter? Oh, and is there valet parking?

Thematic Photographic - Busted

I'm late to the party, but I just discovered Carmi's Thematic Photographic, at his blog Written, Inc. Every Wednesday evening at 7 p.m., he posts the theme for the week, and for the next seven days, participants explore the theme in photography. Here are the basics:

• Every Wednesday evening, at precisely 7 o'clock Eastern, I post a new Thematic Photographic entry.
  
• Each entry has a unique theme. This week's is...busted.
  
• You post a similarly themed image over on your blog.
  
• You paste a link to your entry in a comment here.
  
• If you've already posted something that fits (on a blog, Facebook, MySpace, wherever) simply post the link to the existing entry. Old or new, all photos are welcome.
  
• You may post as many photos or links as you wish. For the next week, I'll be supporting this theme with a related picture/posting each day. I encourage you to do the same. This is all about sharing, so feel free to share to your heart's content!
  
• Please share this link with friends, too, and encourage them to join in. The more, the merrier.

This week, the theme is: Busted. For the next seven days, we'll be looking at things that are broken, run down, worn out or in otherwise sad condition. Obsolescence has so many stories, and I look forward to seeing what stories your photos will be able to tell over the next week.

This is the remains of the Redland Drive-In Theatre, on Route 59 in East Texas. As you drive up Route 59 you see a lot of roadside stands that are closed, a lot of abandoned houses and stores; you see a lot of signs and billboards blown over by Hurricane Ike that haven't been fixed.

The Redland Drive-In is a little different. It's been closed since I started coming here, way back in the early 1990s. It's well and truly, completely BUSTED.

Pink Saturday - Smart Pink!

Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Valentine's Day is the perfect occasion to let the color pink inspire your creativity!

Well, ever since the time I rented a bright lemon-yellow Smart Car while my car was in the shop, I've kept an eye out for these great little cars. You see them around a lot in my part of L.A. - there's a little black one that lives in Topanga, and another blue one I see on my morning commute. I had a blast driving mine, and even [The Man I Love] had fun when he spent a day with it. When you drive one, everyone seems to look at you and smile.

The other evening I pulled into the parking lot of my local supermarket and what did I see but a cute little PINK Smart Car!


How cute is that?? The car was custom-painted to advertise a business called Just Perfect Event Planning.

I was so delighted to see this pink little car that I decided to devote a Pink Saturday post to it - and to the clever young women who found a Just Perfect way to advertise their business!

If you live in Los Angeles, go visit their site. I bet they throw a great party! What do you think?

UPDATE: because two people asked about the safety of Smart Cars, here's a link to some information. Smart Cars have a very good safety record, because of their unique construction. The body of the car is a steel cage that encloses the passenger compartment, and the front of the car is a "crumple zone" designed to absorb impact. The engine is in the back of the car, so it can't be pushed into the passenger compartment in an accident. Of course - any small car will be the loser in a contest with a huge SUV or truck, but Smart Cars seem to hold up as good or better than other small cars.

Spring sun

After almost two weeks of rain and storms, we're having a bit of welcome spring sun. Take a moment at lunchtime. Go sit outside. Enjoy the sun.

These comfy Adirondack chairs and benches are displayed on the sidewalk in front of Tumbleweed & Dandelion, a home furnishings and interior design shop, on Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice, CA. You can find new and vintage items, linens, lamps and furniture. It's a lovely place to browse and imagine leaning back among the pillows with your face lifted toward the spring sun.

Hearts of glass

It's amazing what you'll find if you explore a city on foot.

I was walking down Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice, CA. It's a diagonal stretch between Venice Boulevard and Main Street, lined with small bungalows and quirky modern structures, housing an eclectic mix of cafes, thrift stores, galleries, architects' offices, bars and boutiques. On this street you can buy a $600 handbag, herbal medicine to cleanse your colon, a vintage surfboard, a pair of used jeans, a pint of whiskey, frozen yogurt, a piece of architectural salvage, or a delicate French macaron.

You can meet all kinds of people here, too. During a Sunday afternoon stroll, I spoke with a grizzled old antique dealer, a young man walking a tiny black pug puppy, a young Japanese woman working at a T-shirt shop, a clothing and fabric designer, and a tall elegant grey-haired woman boutique proprietor. I eavesdropped on the conversations of two Brooklyn-accented older couples, sightseeing along the boulevard. I smiled at two razor-thin pierced and tattooed lovers, twining their limbs around one another while peering into the window of a home-decor store, and I side-stepped the baggage-hauling homeless woman, shouting angrily at a clerk ejecting her from a jewelry store.

But sometimes you don't need to buy anything, or eat anything or even talk to anyone. Sometimes you just see something that just makes you smile.


What first caught my eye were an array of bright colors in the grass behind a chain-link fence. It made me turn and look at the rest of the space. A vacant lot between two buildings was filled with glittery things, burgeoning plants, and strange objects.


There's a sign that says "Robin's Sculpture Garden." This is the outdoor gallery of artist Robin Murez. If you visit her site, you can see the sculptures and objects on display here, and you can also see photos of public art installations Robin has done in a variety of locations. Her sculpture garden is also a performance venue for musicians and poets and performance artists.

Poke around at her site. There are unexpected links and bits of art to discover. There's a stairway to nowhere - or is it a pedestal for a winged goddess? There are mosaic spheres, glass and bronze blades of grass, bronze figurines and sculptures that glow at night. I didn't see these pieces when I first visited her Sculpture Garden - but I think they're there, on the wall to the south. I'm going to go back and see if I can find them.


When I first discovered the garden, I didn't know anything about Robin Murez. I just knew I'd stumbled upon a crazy little haven of wonders on a street of stores. I like the authenticity of this kind of art. The way it's there for you to take or leave as you like, without explanation. The way you can't take it all in on first viewing - you have to go back and discover more each time.


And I like the way it's out there, just behind the fence, underneath the open sky with the grass and the trees and the concrete block walls. Somehow, seeing a dandelion bloom among the sculptures makes it seem alive to me.

First words

In my family, the story goes that my first words were "Booful flowers." Beautiful flowers.

According to the story, I spoke them in the front yard of my family's first house in Pennsylvania. I'm sure it was the petunias that caught my eye.

I liked to play in the yard, and my parents let me play as much as I liked without worrying about getting my rooster-print sundress muddy. It made me pretty confident, and comfortable with bugs, dirt, worms, water, and leafy things.


I remember the first time I learned a flower's name. We lived in a suburban small town west of Philadelphia. Behind our house there was a small patch of woods that I was allowed to venture a few steps into.

There were evergreen shrubs with pretty, intricate pink clusters of flowers, and my mother taught me their name - Mountain Laurel.

Kalmia latifolia photo by Alan S. Heilman, University Tennessee Herbarium, from US Forest Service

When we moved to Illinois, our house was one of a half dozen or so built in a newly planned subdivision built on farmland in the Fox River Valley. Our house was surrounded by woods and fields. I was given a small field guide to wildflowers, and looked for flowers like Wake-Robin Trilliums, Mayapples, and Jack-in-the-Pulpit.

© 2002 Steve Baskauf

Each spring the floor of the woods was carpeted with clusters of Spring Beauty, or Claytonia virginica.


My mother grew hybrid tea roses - the ones I remember well are Peace, Tropicana, Queen Elizabeth, and Sterling Silver. One summer she used a mulch of cocoa-bean hulls - I can still remember the smell of hot chocolate in the sun. She also grew annuals like snapdragons, sweet alyssum, and pinks.

I am not sure how old I was when I started looking at the Wayside Gardens catalog my mother got in the mail. They were large, expensive-looking volumes, carefully bound, with colored photos and elaborate descriptions. I still remember plants that fascinated me - Corylus contorta, or "Harry Lauder's Walking Stick" hazel - Butterfly bushes and Franklinia trees. These plants are still offered in Wayside's catalog today.

Wayside printed the plants' common names alongside their botanical names. After a time, the botanical names were just as easy for me to remember as the common names.

I've noticed that I have acquired a peculiar talent. I always name the plants I see. Wherever I am, if I see a plant, some part of my brain marks its name. This quirk is always just teetering on the edge between consciousness and subconsciousness; I can be walking down the street with a friend, having a conversation, and as we pass the planter-boxes of the Wells Fargo Bank or the hedge-rimmed library, a little voice in my brain is rattling away, "Buxus sempervirens, agave, that purple lantana you see everywhere, rose - is it "Iceberg?" - a nice dwarf nandina, that variegated daphne, ipomoea, anigozanthus - and oh what a pretty daylily!"

Name the flowers. I've done it since I learned to talk.

Is that weird? Does anyone else do this, too?

PROMPTuesday

It's PROMPTuesday again. Sandiegomomma's weekly writing inspiration. Today's prompt:

Start a story with the sentence, “It was a dark and stormy night.“

Here are the rules:

• Try to write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in. Just set a timer, make your kid count to 600 slowly, whatever. It’s an honor system. And I trust you.
• Aim for 250 words or less.
• Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.

It was a dark and stormy night. Rebecca called Light cue 56A, and Frank could hear the dimmers buzz under the music as the front-of-house lights rode the curtain up for Act II, casting a blue glow onto the set of the haunted castle, and the corps de ballet posing onstage. He stared at the cue light, double set of red golf-ball-sized light bulbs, dangling from the lighting pipe overhead and clipped to the offstage edge of the velour drape.

"Standby, Light Cue 57 and Thunder Effect," she said, poising her finger on the button to turn off the stage right cue light.

"And 57 - Go!" Rebecca flipped the toggle switch off at the same time. The strobe light mounted just inside the downstage portals flashed a millisecond later, and Frank, standing upstage right, saw the cue light go out and he shook the wooden handle attached to the thundersheet, issuing a shuddering roar from the floppy sheet of galvanized steel.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!!"

The music abruptly stopped. The wraith-like dancers, their arms gracefully raised above them, broke their pose and slumped their shoulders.

"Can we go back?" The voice came over the head-set and then through the PA system so everyone in the theatre could hear. "Sorry, ladies. We need to go over that transition again. It was late! Rebecca, call the curtain up on measure 6, dah DAH, dum da dum Duummmmm!"

"And can we have more thunder?" said the choreographer from the auditorium, and the Voice of God repeated the request - "We need really loud thunder, back there. Really loud."

It was now 9:30 p.m. They had tech'ed Act I last night, and had gone over notes this evening before starting Act II at 7:00 p.m. How had they spent an hour and a half, to be still working through the Act opening?

Frank shifted his shoulders to work out a kink, and let the thundersheet settle back into place. It was hung from a pipe attached to the backstage wall; a thin galvanized sheet of steel about 3 feet wide and six feet long, its bottom edge clamped into a handle made of two-by-four stock. A stencil marking it property of the ballet company was painted on the steel, along with the stencil of the union insignia. Someone had written "Eugenia's Thunder Thighs" on it in black magic marker - Eugenia was the ballet's artistic director, and Frank was not sure whether she had seen this legend or not. She was a scrawny old bird with a beak of a nose, and she often smoked cigarettes out on the loading dock with the rest of the guys during a break in rehearsal.

He watched two of the dancers roll their eyes at each other. In the wings, the male lead propped his leg up on the back of the lighting boom, stretching his hamstring. Over on the flyrail, Cookie called out, "Heads up, curtain coming in!" and he and Jeb slowly brought the main drape down until the hem touched the groundcloth.

Rebecca flicked the switches and Frank's red cue lights came back on. "Standby, please," said Rebecca. "We're in Light Cue 56. Warning, Light Cue 56A, Curtain up, Light Cue 57, Thunder Effect and Light Cue 58. Standby. Are you cued up again on the music, Joe?"

"Yeah, we're ready."

The music poured from the onstage monitors, and the company went through the sequence again. When the red cue light flicked off, Frank flapped the thundersheet again.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!!!" the music ground to a halt. The Voice of God said, "Louder! Let's hear it again."

Frank flapped it again. "You call that loud? I want it really loud!"

Again. "I want it as loud as you can do it! I want you to BE the thunder!"

Now Cookie and Jeb were cracking up with laughter over on the flyrail. Frank's ears burned. He grabbed the handle with both hands and shook it for all he was worth, and kept on shaking it till his ears rang.

"That's IT! I want you to do it like that every time," said the director. "Let's go back to the beginning."

Frank looked at the thundersheet. Its wooden handle was smooth and darkened from years of other stagehands' palms gripping it. Graffitti listed names, productions, and years. "Jerry B., Nutcracker '96. Jensen 1978.

Be the thunder. He saw the twinkle in Cookie's eye, and wondered just how humiliating the jokes would get. Shit. Thunder Thighs. He guessed it couldn't get worse than that.

His light came back on and the music started again. He gripped the handle. He owned the damn thing now.

Rainy day cookies

Brrrrr....! After my ill-fated trip out into the rain, we hunkered down in the house to shelter from the "Storm of the Century."

So I made some oatmeal cookies. I used the recipe on the back of the McCann's Irish Oatmeal box - halved, because I didn't have that much shortening. It calls for pecans, and I had walnuts; it also called for raisins and I had only a small handful of golden raisins, but....you have to improvise.


I love my silpat matt for cookie baking. I only have one, so I used parchment paper on another cookie sheet - both the silpat and the parchment worked great - no greasing!

I made the cookies kind of small, so I ended up with a lot of little cookies instead of fewer big cookies, but that's OK for me. Please disregard the bottle of pinot noir - that's leftover from last night's dinner. I promise I don't hit the bottle while making oatmeal cookies!

That's the vase of flowers [The Man I Love] gave me for Valentine's Day - three days after he had it delivered to my office, it's still pretty. Tulips have staying power!

Nothing's better on a cold gloomy day than fresh-baked cookies. And a glass of milk.